


a shedding of blood, glowing like the flaming sun

by hatchet



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: F/F, also consider this basically unedited, more of a drabble than anything else but i needed to get the idea out, this is mwp (murder without plot) with a side of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatchet/pseuds/hatchet
Summary: eleanor bonneville's first murder, and amanda is there to watch.





	a shedding of blood, glowing like the flaming sun

Eleanor steps across the man lying prone on the concrete floor, taking a moment to look back over her shoulder at Amanda as the man’s muffled cries grow more insistent behind his gag. The other woman’s gaze is locked on her, and Eleanor can see her chest heaving with her rapid breaths even this far away; she's sure her own is much the same. Her heart is pounding against her ribcage, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins feels like it’s making her entire body buzz with a dangerous electricity.

Finally, she meets Amanda’s gaze, and the other woman nods, just once; Eleanor lets their eye contact linger a beat longer (there’s an almost gravitational pull between the two of them, always, and the redhead has found it never grows easier to look away from her) before she turns back to the task at hand.

Slowly, she lowers herself to her knees, straddling the man at the hips. She adjusts her grip on the knife in her right hand and the man’s gaze follows the movement: his pleas become even more frantic, bordering on hysterical, and she can see the fear flashing behind his eyes as he begins to weep.

Eleanor brings the knife to her lips, shushing him, before she lowers it again to drag the edge of the blade along the trail left by his tears. She doesn't even press hard enough to break the skin, but she can feel his thrashing suddenly still beneath her, his eyes growing wide as the tip of the blade comes to rest just beneath his lower eyelashes.

She shudders.

It's raw power, nothing she’s ever felt before; the closest she knows is when her mouth is between Amanda’s thighs, and even then, there's a partnership, a give and a take. This is  _ all her _ , the man beneath her no longer anything but a slave to her whims, and she can't deny that it's fucking intoxicating.

_ (No wonder Amanda stopped needing the drugs, _ she’ll find herself thinking later, and maybe she’ll feel a little guilty, but that doesn't mean there's not any truth in it.)

The man beneath her is struggling not to breathe, she realizes as she watches his face grow increasingly redder in the dim light of the warehouse. The blade is still dangerously close to his eye, and she draws it back. The man tries to suck in a breath, desperate, and almost immediately begins choking on the gag. Eleanor cuts it away.

He’s much too busy gasping for air to scream, but she tells him anyway that he'd best not make a sound. When he doesn't respond, she leans in closer and repeats it, her voice a low, animalistic snarl, and the man nods quickly. He’s still weeping; it's pathetic.

Eleanor lets her gaze follow the lines of his jaw, over his bobbing Adam’s apple and down to the flat expanse of his chest. Experimentally, she presses the edge of the blade into his sternum, just hard enough that bright red droplets bead up against his pale flesh. The man  _ wails _ , and Eleanor doesn't even look at him as she grabs the discarded gag and shoves it back into his mouth; she can't tear her gaze away from the blood streaming from the cut to pool in the hollow at the base of his neck.

She decides, then.

Initially, she’d imagined shoving the blade into his chest, the cartilage splitting with a ‘crack’ beneath her knife before she reached the heart. She'd draw the knife back then, and with it would come a spray of blood, and then she’d stab him again, less precise this time, and over and over until the life behind his eyes had long since faded.

Now, though, seeing the blood against his neck…

Eleanor turns the knife sideways, lining it up against his throat, and the man begins to struggle in earnest beneath her, trying his damndest to choke out garbled, gasping pleas. She lifts the knife, just an inch, the blade hovering over his throat, and as he freezes, she dips her head to whisper to him, her lips brushing against the shell of the man’s ear.

“Game over.”

Her next movements are fluid: Eleanor sits back again, and the light catches on a flash of silver before a scarlet gash gapes open in the blade’s wake. The man’s writhing has devolved into sporadic convulsions, and he’s making some sort of desperate gurgling noise that she thinks is meant to be a scream. An arc of blood, hot and sticky, flies from the wound, spattering itself across the redhead’s face, and she lets her head fall back as another spray of blood hits her and  _ moans. _

She moves to reach for the gag, wanting to watch the blood trickle from the man’s mouth as he sputters through his final breaths, but then there’s a hand in her hair, and its fingers are curled into a fist and her head is being jerked to the side before Amanda’s mouth is on hers. The knife clatters to the floor as Eleanor’s hands come up to clutch at the other woman’s shirt, and she twists towards her, swinging her leg over the still-twitching body beneath her even as Amanda is lowering her backwards.

It's an odd angle: her back is arched across the man’s stomach, and she hits her head against the concrete floor, and there’s still blood spraying weakly across them both, but the redhead can’t find the energy to care about any of that because Amanda is practically tearing her shirt over her head, and then her bra, and Eleanor moans again as the other woman’s teeth find her neck.

She wastes no time, sucking and biting until a red and purple mark has no doubt bloomed beneath her mouth, and one of Amanda’s hands palms at her breasts as the other slips between them to dip below her waistband; Eleanor gasps, her hips rocking upwards as the other woman’s fingers slide against her.

She clutches again at Amanda’s shirt, this time trying to rid her of it. The other woman complies almost instantly, sitting up to yank it over her head, and Eleanor whimpers at the loss of sensation, but then Amanda’s lips crash against her own again and the sound is lost between them.

She doesn't stay long, though, instead beginning to trail rough kisses down the redhead’s body as Eleanor’s hands come up to clutch at her hair. Her hips jerk upward again, almost of their own accord, and Amanda’s teeth graze her hip bone in chastisement as she demands that she  _ be patient, _ but even as she speaks, she’s pulling off Eleanor’s pants, and then Amanda’s mouth finds its place between Eleanor’s legs and she can’t help but let her head fall back again as she cries out Amanda’s name.

*

Later, as they lie there together on the warehouse floor, blood drying even on their sweat-soaked bodies, Amanda tells her she did well, and she loves her, and Eleanor is sure this is the moment her entire life has led up to.

**Author's Note:**

> like i said in the tags, this is basically just a mostly unedited idea that i needed to get out. i have so many (like, SO MANY) elmanda drafts just sitting in my google docs, so let me know if you want me to post them? i think most of them are way fluffier than this but yknow, hit me with requests and i'll see what i can do
> 
> title from chelsea wolfe's static hum.


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